


cross

by pseudocitrus



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: F/F, Kagune Sex, Light Angst, Mild Tousaki, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rize is just staying until she heals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cross

**Author's Note:**

> prompted through tumblr~ specifically, a Rize/Touka in relation to the words "apodyopis" (the act of mentally undressing someone) and "gymnophoria" (the sensation that someone is mentally undressing you).
> 
> hope you're having a good day!

Every time Touka enters the room, Rize watches.

At first, Rize’s sight is purely animal. Her gaze crosses Touka’s, for an instant — and then hones in on the package of meat in Touka’s hands. Then Touka flings it, and shuts the door, before Rize can bite her.

That’s how it goes. Touka visits the spare room. Unlocks the locks. Throws the meat. Slams the door shut, and locks up again.

It’s a little like when Hinami was shut up in Anteiku’s spare room, Touka thinks, dryly. But with more snarling.

She and Nii-san have set up a schedule for harvesting from the suicide point, but Touka breaks it before they even start it. The walls aren’t thick enough to suppress Rize’s mindless pleas for food, even after she’s depleted their entire stock. Secretly, Touka goes hunting, on her own, ignoring Nii-san’s insistence that they can take it slow with Rize’s recovery.

It’s hard for Touka to keep a grudge over someone who has suffered all the things Nii-san has said Rize has suffered. Anyway, the faster that Rize gets better, the less excuses Touka needs to think up to explain away the muffled cries and banging from :re’s spare room.

The faster Rize gets better, the sooner she can get back to building :re.

:::

Five days. Twenty-three meals, some of them surreptitious, at hours that Nii-san is away. One day, Touka cracks the door open to silence instead of snarls, and her breath stops.

_She escaped!_

Touka lunges into the room, so fast the door smacks into the opposite wall. Her gaze flies to the window, which is still shut.

“Here,” comes a ragged voice, and Touka jumps.

Rize is sitting up, on the couch. Watching her, as usual.

_No._

Not as usual. Her eyes fix on Touka’s,  _really_  fix, as if she’s really seeing her. In return, Touka looks back.

The front of Rize’s body, from brow to belly, is smeared with blood. The only part of her that is clean are her lips, which she licks, slowly, like a cat.

Touka swallows. She hadn’t thought through what she would do when Rize recovered. Touka assumed she’d have at least another month to think about it.

_Rinkaku-users._  The thought that leaves a strange, tiny warmth in her. She hopes it won’t show through on her face, but even as she does so, Rize’s head tilts.

Touka clears her throat and bows.

“Hello,” she manages. “I’m —”

“Kirishima Touka,” Rize says. “I remember.”

Touka blinks. She searches her mind for any memory of introducing herself, but before she can find it, Rize speaks.

“Do you remember me?”

“Rize,” Touka says, and then backpedals. “I mean, Kamishiro Rize. San.”

“Right,” Rize says, thoughtfully. She seems to consider this, and then stands. She smiles. Abruptly, prettily. If it weren’t for the blood and some lingering hollowness in her eyes and cheeks, Touka might have thought no time at all had passed since the first time Rize wandered into Anteiku and began perusing its customers.

“Touka-chan,” Rize says. “I’m awfully dirty. Would it be possible for me to take a bath?”

Touka hesitates.

“I won’t run,” Rize says. Her smile widens as she rubs her lower back. “I have to recover just a little more.”

Her kakuhou. Shit. Touka had assumed that Rize would be able to take off as soon as she could speak properly.

Touka hesitates, then steps aside. She points out the shower room, and follows Rize down the hall. Rize enters and, before shutting the door, looks back at her. Their gazes cross. Then Rize’s eyes slide down Touka’s body. Touka stiffens as Rize’s eyes travel downward and then back up, a circuit that seems to last several minutes. It ends with Rize meeting Touka’s eyes again.

“Thank you,” Rize says. She begins unbuttoning her blouse, and Touka has a glimpse of a blood-smeared curve before the door shuts.

:::

Well, that was weird.

Maybe…maybe it was just a one time thing.

_Or,_  Touka realizes,  _maybe not_.

Every time Touka enters the room, Rize watches.

“Good morning,” Touka announces, to which Rize nods her head and replies, “Good morning, Touka-chan.”

Their gazes cross, and then depart, again. It’s just a look, but somehow, Touka can feel it as Rize’s eyes travel down her body. Lingering at the throat that shows above her collar. Tracing each button that closes off the front of her blouse. Warmth blooms beneath every centimeter Rize traverses, spreads and sinks into her belly, and lower. Touka fists her hands to keep herself from folding them in front of her body.

Touka isn’t stupid. But, she doesn’t really know what to do, either. Nii-san has no interest in catering to Rize’s whims, even if doing so will keep her complacent. So, Touka comes, bearing meat and bags upon bags of novels from the library. They can force Rize to eat less than usual, but nothing Touka does can quell her appetite for books.

_Just like him._

And yet, completely different.

Rize reads all the time, all day, and all night, which Touka knows because she can barely sleep herself. While Touka paces, trying to dispel her thoughts and exhaust herself, she sees the light from under Rize’s door, hears the faint rustle of pages turning.

So, it’s no surprise Rize finishes books so quickly, and in such volume. The couple minutes they’re together, Rize always starts talking about plots and characters animatedly, in a clear ploy to get Touka to stay in the room. Touka never knows what to say when it happens; and, hearing someone talk about books just makes her want to return to the cafe and continue sprucing it up. Whenever Rize tries, Touka just nods over and over, and inches closer to the door.

“Come on, Touka-chan,” Rize sighs one day. “Stay a little. You’ll feel better with company.”

“What kind of company?” Touka asks, pointedly. Rize’s smile broadens with amusement.

“Well,” she says. “Whatever kind you like.”

“I don’t need company,” Touka tells her curtly. “And I don’t need to feel better. I’m fine.”

Before Rize can say or see anything more, she flees.

:::

What is Rize looking at?

What does Rize  _see_?

In front of the bathroom mirror, Touka examines herself, and her eye narrows into a glare. Even coming out of being starved for months, Rize looks…

…and, besides. Regarding Touka herself, what’s there to look at, at all?

A manager should look better. If she can’t quite accomplish looking…nice, then she should be more mature, at least. One day, Touka returns home, and goes straight to the bathroom. There’s snipping, clattering, the sound of water running — and then, a lot of hissed curses. She isn’t surprised when Rize shows up and leans into the doorway.

“Hair dye,” she says. “And a little trim too, I see.”

Touka grits her teeth. “I messed up,” she grumbles.

“Not that badly,” Rize says. She smiles. “Yet. Do you want me to help you? Or, would you rather be the most conspicuous cafe manager in this ward?”

Touka frowns.

“…help,” she says, through her teeth.

“It would be,” Rize says, “my pleasure.”

She rolls up her sleeves, states her instructions. Lean. Be still. Relax. Relax.  _Relax._  Rize’s fingers massage her scalp and Touka is glad that her face is facing the sink, that curtains of short hair hide her cheeks that are, for whatever reason, heating.

Afterward, Rize whisks up a pair of scissors and evens out Touka’s cut with meticulously snipped millimeters.

“There,” she says, turning off the hair dryer. “Even more beautiful than before.”

Touka’s  _thank you_  suffocates in her throat, and she can’t catch enough breath to try anything else.

:::

There’s probably no way Rize can actually —  _see_  — but even so, Touka finds herself hesitating over her open dresser. There are a couple things in there still, that she bought with Yoriko — just for fun. Underwear with too much lace for everyday use, which she had kept in the back and now finds herself stepping and strapping into.

There’s no way Touka should be able to see what lies beneath Rize’s clothing either, but since she was the one that bought her clothing for her, the images fill themselves in for her.

“Wow,” Rize said, when she emptied out the plastic bags on a table, “these are cute,” and Touka was startled to realize that she was right.

“I-it wasn’t on purpose,” Touka protested quickly, “I just thought these suited you best,” and then — there — the smile.

“I’ll wear them happily, then,” Rize told her, and now, when Touka enters Rize’s room, her mouth gets a little dry.

Floral prints. Zig-zagging ribbons.

“I have food,” Touka coughs, and Rize licks her lips. Their gazes cross, and quickly part. Drifting down.

Rize’s breasts, the size of which she now knows exactly, pushing out prominently against one of Touka’s old shirts. (When Rize looks at Touka, does she only think  _How small_?) Rize’s waist, now well-fed and well-filled. (Rize’s fingers, stroking the couch absently — how would they feel, on Touka’s own belly?) And, beneath that…what color must she be wearing today? The pink one? The white?

Her fingers on Touka’s head, the other day, when dyeing, had felt so nice.

“Well? Give it to me,” Rize says, and Touka flushes red and then redder when she realizes that she’s still holding Rize’s food.

:::

Every day, Nii-san asks if Rize has recovered yet, and every day Rize bites her lip and looks away.

“I’m sorry to be so much trouble,” she says. On the days that Nii-san looks like he’s going to press her, all it takes is a couple squeezed-out tears to get him to give up.

So Rize continues to stay, and Touka finds herself…not completely displeased by it. It’s nice to have the shop filled up a little. In some ways, it seems a little bit like good luck, to have someone around who is so much different than they were before, but still has reasons (whatever they may be) to stay.

:::

When Touka comes in one evening, Rize watches. Her smile starts, and drops.

“What happened?”

That Rize’s sweeping gaze has actually found something deeper than clothing makes Touka bite her lip.

“Nothing,” she says, and then she says, “He came today.”

Rize leans back. She says nothing. Touka shouldn’t say more, and does anyway.

“He didn’t recognize me.” Her voice is — breathy. Still suspended in disbelief. Had she really seen him, after all these years? Did he really just come into the place she’s been making for him?

And did he really just leave again, without remembering a thing about her?

This isn’t…this isn’t…

Touka grips her head. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. The loneliness in her chest, that she has been trying to bury and fill for months with cafe work, stretches its jaw wide open, as if to break and devour her completely.

“He left,” Touka says, barely. “He left again.”

All of her work, for nothing. All of her stupid beliefs, for nothing.

“I’m an idiot,” Touka laughs, brokenly, and Rize stretches out her arms.

“Touka-chan,” Rize calls, “come here,” and, since she has nothing better to do, Touka obeys. She reaches the couch, and Rize pulls her to sit on it, beside her. Though Touka tries to avert her eyes, Rize takes Touka’s face gently in both palms, and turns her head. Their gazes cross.

There’s no drifting this time. Rize’s eyes shut, and Touka’s does too, just as their lips meet. Rize’s kiss is delicate, encompassing. It alights for just a moment, and then Rize kisses the tears rolling down Touka’s cheeks. The next kiss she lays on Touka’s mouth is deeper, and flavored with salt.

It’s…good. Her tongue is tender, is tenderly tasting her, is tenderly yielding. It’s not flesh ― not ―  _really_  ― but it’s just as delicious somehow, and somehow, her belly is crying for more, more to continue numbing the gaps between her ribs. Touka leans, seeking, and Rize obliges. She reclines, and guides Touka to lay across her body. She opens her mouth, inviting, and Touka feels it smile as she eases her tongue between Rize’s teeth. Softly, softly. Withdrawing, allowing Rize’s tongue to press and follow it back.

Maybe it’s because they share so much clothing now, and are familiar with it. Maybe it’s because they’ve gone through the motions, mentally, hundreds of times. In any case, Rize’s fingers work quickly at the buttons on Touka’s blouse, and once Touka herself is free, Touka inverts the shirt off over Rize’s head, and watches Rize’s hair cascade down in a beautiful flurry. Touka has a moment to look at her and think,  _It’s nothing like I thought, her body is even more ―_

And then Rize pulls her close. Their bare skin slides and presses together, warm and unbearably soft. There’s just enough room between them for Rize’s hand to reach and start petting between Touka’s legs, and Touka buries her face into Rize’s neck as her body begins to throb.

Rize tilts her head toward her, wraps her other arm around Touka’s shoulders.

“You fed me,” Rize whispers. “So, let me give you something to eat in return.”

Rize’s back arches, lifting Touka a bit. Touka doesn’t understand what’s happening until she feels a light touch behind her, beneath her, against her sex, and even then Touka thinks,  _How is ― what is ―_

Rize is still hugging her with one hand, and still using the other to ― to stroke. The last touch ― the last touch ― is coming from ― something large and dark-colored that is slithering just outside her periphery.

_She’s healed,_  Touka realizes, but Rize doesn’t give her time to linger in her shock; she kisses her again, and slides her hand inside Touka’s underwear, and immediately dispels anything in her that isn’t raw sensation.

Rize’s fingers, caressing Touka’s clit. Her other hand, cradling Touka’s head. There’s a tiny  _rip_  as Rize’s kagune make quick and precise work of Touka’s tights and underwear, and Touka flinches but Rize kisses her forehead and when her kagune press up against bare skin, its point is blunt, and it’s no thicker than a single finger. Touka’s breath catches as Rize traces the opening of her cunt. It caresses and caresses and caresses and soon, it’s so wet that Touka can hear it as it begins to part her folds.

“Look at me,” Rize murmurs, and after Touka obeys she says, “Kiss me,” and Touka licks her lips and leans and Rize eagerly swallows up the whine that follows after easing her kagune inside.

It’s ― hot, hotter than she thought. A-and ― feels bigger, too, huge. Touka shudders and Rize combs her hair and withdraws and enters again, even thinner, until Touka’s deeper muscle doesn’t resist so much as it does embrace, until the stroke of it yields a trembling of an entirely different nature.

“I’m going to make it bigger,” Rize whispers, and Touka takes a deep breath, and she releases it slowly as Rize enters again, this time with the breadth of two fingers.

O-or, more? It’s ― hard to tell ― she can’t exactly ―  _compare_  ― and as Rize continues, she can’t exactly ―  _think_ , either. Her thoughts drain and focus, following the rise and fall of friction at the very core of her, and all the little sparks and waves it throws across her skin. She didn’t know that her body was capable of feeling this way, didn’t know it could burn and feel numb all at once, and Rize runs her nails across her back. Rize stirs, gently.

And then begins to speed up.

The sound is ― absolutely ― vulgar. Wet, and loud. Rize is thrusting and rolling her kagune around inside Touka feverishly, and their moans mix together, almost incoherent.

“You feel good,” Rize is repeating hazily, “you feel so good, Touka-chan, you’re, the first good thing I’ve felt in, in so long,” and her voice is staggered with pleasure but something about it is broken, too, and Touka kisses her, sharp. There’s the taste of salt again, this time not from herself.

“More,” Touka tells her, and it’s so quiet she isn’t sure that Rize will hear and is relieved when Rize shudders and sighs.

Thicker. Faster. Touka’s whole body is moving now, a combination of Rize’s thrusts and her own hungry motions, bucking her whole body to take Rize deeper, deeper, deeper. Their bodies slap; their fingers interlock. Rize’s hair is getting even more messed, one strap of her bra has slid off a shoulder and one breast is slipping and bobbing and, inspired, Touka jerks her body even more roughly, until Rize’s fingers are gripping so hard it almost hurts.

It happens, all at once, before she realizes it, before she can give any warning. Touka climaxes with a cry she can’t suppress, with a force that brings her to a halt, and Rize gasps and gasps and spasms in time with her, kagune thrashing helplessly against Touka’s squeezing muscle.

Silence, broken only by their panting. Rize winces; and then her kagune loses its shape, melts down Touka’s thighs and then continues melting, into nonexistence. It’s kind of chilly in the room, Touka realizes, belatedly — there are goosebumps rising up her body — but before she can do anything about it, Rize pulls her down again, and Touka is too weak to do anything but lay against her, rocked softly by Rize’s calming breathing.

After a while, Touka reaches, and their fingers intertwine again. This time, gently.

Before she drifts into sleep, Touka hopes dazedly that they weren’t loud enough that she needs to think of more excuses.


End file.
